Category Archives: why i’m better than everyone else

Bus Stop Line Jump

Filed under funner times on the bus, living in new york sucks so hard, my uber-confrontational personality, why i'm better than everyone else
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Kamran and I were in Hell’s Kitchen Sunday night, having traveled to the exact opposite side of the island to pour our months of collected pocket change in one of those machines that exchanges it for gift certificates. We were waiting at a bus stop with our riches in hand, staring longingly at the side-by-side 99-cent pizza and Gray’s Papaya, when a man approached with a large instrument in a case strapped to his back. We were standing just to the left of the bus shelter, leaving enough room for someone to slip past us in line if he wanted to be a jerk. But he stood behind us instead, avoiding the waist-high pile of garbage bags on our other side.

We stayed in that configuration until the bus arrived some minutes later, when the man with the instrument came out of nowhere to stand in front of me in the line of people waiting to get on the bus. I couldn’t even help myself when my blood took a sudden surge; I simply had to march around him and insert myself back into the line where I rightfully belonged. The fact that he had waited until the last second to make his move made me so much angrier than if he had just done it from the moment he came to the stop. At least then he could’ve pretended to be looking for a seat or a place to rest his instrument in the shelter.

Read the rest here!

“Big Brother” and the Inability to Accept Compliments

Filed under a taste for tv, why i'm better than everyone else
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Like the other 99% of Americans who think “Big Brother” season 13’s Rachel is catty, fake, pathetic, and trainwrecky, I saw right through her ruse about Cassie being a threat and a liar. Cassie is pretty and sweet, and Rachel is pock-faced and bitchy. (When the Head of Household trivia competition revealed that America thinks Porsche’s more likely to steal a man than Rachel is, Kamran said it’s not because Rachel doesn’t want to be a homewrecker but because no other man would ever have her.) (Also, yes, there is a woman on “Big Brother” named after a car.) I was as disappointed as anyone when Cassie was voted off, but I was even more disappointed by her exchange with host Julie Chen in her “reaction” interview:

Cassie did such a great job of not saying, “I am pretty and therefore everyone hated me,” but twice she made fun of herself for not even trying to look good while on the show, and twice when Julie said, “But you still looked gorgeous,” Cassie ignored the compliment. I don’t know why, but that makes me so uncomfortable. I don’t think my parents taught me to duck compliments, but somewhere along the way, I started laughing off or denying most nice things people might say to me. And it seems like it’s that way with a lot of the really talented people I know, too. Kamran, for instance, told me he went to “grad school in New Jersey” on our first date instead of bragging that he got his Ph.D. from Princeton. And my best friend, Tracey, will never tell you that she’s an amazing writer/scrapbooker/singer.

It’s like we all think looking like we all have no self-esteem is favorable to just saying “thank you”. Or maybe we’re all so secretly full of ourselves that we know our answer to any compliment will accidentally be, “I know, right?”

Cover Up That Caesarean Scar, Fatty

Filed under good times at everyone else's expense, it's fun to be fat, my uber-confrontational personality, stuff i hate, why i'm better than everyone else
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I’ve never worn a bikini. I burst forth from my mother’s womb at 145 pounds, already wearing footie pajamas to hide my shame, so my beach attire has always included one-pieces and t-shirts. Well, my friends and I are soon going back to the Hamptons beach house we rented last year, and I’ve been actively searching again for the perfect swimsuit after last year’s tankini disaster at Laguna Beach.

I think I finally did find a suit that I’ll like, but more importantly, I was reminded that everyone else likes the wrong suit. For reference, here is the only person who should be wearing a bikini:

I don’t mean to be anti-feminist here, but seriously, if you don’t look like that, why are you wearing one?

Do you just looooove the way the water feels on your stomach? Hey, guess what; water actually soaks through swimsuits right to your skin!

Were you hoping for some awesome bikini tan lines? TAN LINES ARE NOT SEXY.

I imagine you’re not doing it to show off your love handles or the fact that no amount of padding will give you sideboobs.

And I kind of doubt you want people noticing that your midsection’s shaped less like an hourglass and more like one of those fat pencils we used to use in kindergarten.

You know what hides love handles, weird foam padding, and your giant potbelly that sort of reminds one of a poisonous growth on a treetrunk?

ONE-PIECES! For me, even models look better in them:

I guess I’d just rather see less and imagine perfection than to be assaulted by how imperfect everything is. And don’t try to tell me that imperfections are beautiful, you bikini-wearing sap.

I’m Certain All BFFs Are This Freaky

Filed under all of my friends are prettier than i am, why i'm better than everyone else
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I was talking to my BFF, Tracey, the other day about the fact that neither of us has ever needed prescription drugs. I asked, “Should we be on drugs for something? Everyone else is!” She replied, “It’s weird enough of us to not be on drugs, but it might be weirder that we’ve never sought mental health treatment in the first place.”

And at first I was like, “Yeah! Weird!” But then I was like, “Wait, no, not weird.” And then I confessed to Tracey that despite pretty terrible things happening to me–like, say, my mom dying of brain cancer when I was a senior in high school–I think I’ve managed to stay awesome because I’ve had her to talk to since we were just wee little lasses. And then she confessed to me that despite pretty terrible things happening to her–like, say, her dad’s brain aneurism, brain tumors, and subsequent lifelong health issues–she thinks she’s managed to stay awesome because she’s had me to talk to, too.

I have a blogfriend whose best friend died a couple of years ago in a horrific and horrifically random shooting, and for a while, her online journal was almost solely about coping with this sudden death and the tremendous life changes it brought. Some of her friends were annoyed by her constantly talking about it and acted like she should move on with her life, but I totally got it. To have a best best friend–not just a good friend but a best friend who knows everything about you and doesn’t need to put you down to make herself feel better and doesn’t try to make you jealous and can handle you practically living with her for two weeks straight during your Christmas visits home–and then to lose that? The pain is almost unimaginable to me.

On the phone yesterday, I asked Tracey not to die, and she agreed to try, but we decided that if either of us does kick the bucket too soon, the other will keep her memory alive in the very best ways.

Tracey says she’ll build a roadside shrine to me (this may only be in the case of death by car crash, but I hope it’s no matter what) with a cross and flowers and all the fixin’s and that she’ll come every day to replenish it with–and I’m not sure what this means–baby doll limbs. Is that a common shrine element? I hope so.

I decided I’ll end every blog post with mention of her passing, but she said she’d actually prefer if I put it in my e-mail signature. So I said I’ll sign every letter, “3/9/11 – Never Forget,” a la all the 9/11 memorial crap. She thought it a little morbid for me to use yesterday’s actual date, but I’m nothing if not totally creepy.

Then we started talking about the “Hoarders” episode where the lady’s brother was a fireman who’d died trying to rescue people from the towers on 9/11, and the pain of losing him was so great that she was over-collecting anything related to 9/11 or NYC in general or patriotism or simply the colors red, white, and blue. We decided that my “Hoarders” episode about all of the Tracey-related paraphernalia I’ve saved over the years would be pretty embarrassing. But her episode about her Katie-related collection would be much, much worse.

Because she has my FINGERNAIL CLIPPINGS!!!

BFFs! BFFs! BFFs!


on the subway


pretending to smoke at Pete’s Candy Store and looking so awkward


feeding shaved ice to a gargoyle in the East Village


and then tasting his sweet ice breath


in the changing room at Dylan’s Candy Bar

Donut Hole Babies

Filed under creepy boyfriend obsession, narcissism, why i'm better than everyone else
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I spotted this picture on a Tumblr the other day, and it made me sad, because when one of my friends had a baby, I sent her this same pacifier as a gift:

I thought it was hilarious and pretty much made me the coolest fake auntie ever, but I’ve never seen it in the many times I’ve visited her since, and I’ve especially never seen it actually in the baby’s mouth. Her other kid does use the ice cream cone lamp my best friend, Tracey, and I got her. But still.

I should probably have kids just to buy them cool stuff. And I should especially have them with Kamran, because then they’d turn out looking like little donut holes: